Blue Lagoon
by llacerta
Summary: A collection of short stories. Primoris Deis- Randall has a rather interesting first day at work.
1. Near Dark: Prologue

This is just going to be a collection of short stories and ideas I've had in my head for a while now. Any Randall fan knows what it's like when given a character such as Randall to manipulate; there are so many possibilities and opportunities for interesting theories and things for him to do- sometimes too many! And in a world as creative as the Monster World, there are rarely any restraints beyond common sense. Thank goodness for those wonderful people at Pixar for providing us with it!

This first story will be a bit longer than most of what I'm going to put here. It's an idea that has always seemed a bit too silly to put in writing, but for once, I think I'll give one of my own 'plot bunnies' the benefit of the doubt.

All characters created by Pixar are copyright Disney/Pixar.

All characters created by me are mine. Though why anyone would want to steal them is entirely beyond me...

**Contents**

_**Near Dark-**_Randall has returned to the Monster World, only to find that everything has changed more radically than he could ever have imagined.

**_Primoris Deis-_**Randall has a rather interesting first day at work.

**Near Dark**

"_If you're frightened of dying, and you're holding on, you'll see devils tearing your life away. If you've made your peace, then the devils are really angels, freeing you from the Earth."_

-From Jacob's Ladder

_Part I- Pesticide_

Prologue-

There was such a silence that nothing dared to disturb it. The small town of Horrorsville hadn't seen any form of life, Mon or Man, for several months now.

A light breeze flittered amongst the weeds pushing up from underneath the pavement, and the bungalows lining either side of the road glared out into the distance with dark, brooding eyes. Cracks appeared in the sky like dry skin, bleeding out a spattering of rain.

As the hulking figure of the Atticus appeared over the horizon, those inside it gazed around anxiously. They had been travelling for a long time now, and the Atticus was running dangerously low on Laughter. Without a Laughter Station nearby, they could be in deep trouble.

Chuck smiled apprehensively to himself.

"Well, this is it...You ready, Miles?" The tentacle monster turned to his friend, a very small, blue Mon with two large, imp-like wings perched high on his back and a single gawping eye in the middle of his pill-shaped body.

"'s now or never, I guess. Don't look as though there's anyone around, though..."

Chuck's expression remained blank, turning his attention back to steering the Atticus and deciding where to park. For a moment, his giant tongue leapt out of mouth and, in a single anticlockwise movement, slurped around his entire face, keeping his amphibious skin moist.



The Atticus grinded to a halt with a moan, its metallic structure heaving. There were nine people on board at the time, all trying to escape the devastation that had destroyed most of the Monster World already. The Atticus was their home, their safe-base, originally stolen from Monster Army headquarters as a transportation vehicle, but since modified by its very capable on-board mechanic. From the outside, it appeared to be a giant dome on treads, with few windows and some awkward-looking chimneys hanging lopsidedly from one end. Yet on the inside, it was an intricate maze of small rooms and corridors, all invaded by the heavy smell of stagnant air.

"All right, that's it," said Chuck, satisfied with where they would be leaving the Atticus- they needed to be in view of it at all times. "Scort, call up the others and sort out the weapons. Don't think we'll be needing much; the place looks dead."

A tall, multi-limbed monster draped in braided hair nodded. "Aye, sir," she confirmed, and went downstairs.

Chuck sighed. They'd been searching for survivors for months now, yet with almost every town or city they came across, very few were found. The Humans certainly knew how to destroy everything they laid their sights on. Disgusting creatures.

With the entire crew now present, Chuck opened the door of the Atticus and lowered its steps down to the ground. Everyone slowly gathered around as he began to announce what their plan of action was to be.

"All right guys, you know the drill; stay in pairs, search only where you are in view of the Atticus, and if you find anything- or any_one_- come back to base and report it immediately. Scort's going to remain here if you get into any trouble." Everyone nodded. "Today, we're looking for Miles' brother, but remember, any survivors are welcome aboard the Atticus. No-one gets left behind." Everyone nodded again, but solemnly this time.

Content that they were all ready, Chuck let them go, and they began to search the abandoned houses.

He turned back to the Atticus and addressed the two monsters still waiting for instruction.

"Should I stick around outside or go back in?" asked Scort.

"Stay around here. Just in case." Chuck turned to the other monster.

"Randall, you come out with me. There's just got to be some Laughter Canisters around here somewhere."

Randall nodded, wiping some grease off his brow. The two headed out in search for a Laughter Station.

"What do you think of this, Randall?" Chuck said, turning to his comrade. Randall narrowed his eyes, asking a question without saying any words. "Well, what do you think of this place? Horrorsville? You've usually got a sixth sense for this kind of thing, for danger. Think we'll find much here?"



Randall shrugged, almost immediately distracted by several large canisters lying in an abandoned front garden. He quickened his pace, slid over the front garden wall and inspected the canisters.

"Any good?" Chuck called out to him.

Randall shook his head, baring a tooth or two in grimace. Even with such a slight change of expression, his entire face contorted, warped by the deep scar running through it.

A second later, panicked voices shouted out in the distance.

"CHUCK! _CHUCK!_ WE FOUND SOMEONE!"


	2. Near Dark: Chapter 1

Finally, an update. I've been overloaded with revision and exams lately, hence the lack of writing, but this chapter is pretty big so I might use it as an excuse if I don't update again for a little while! Anyone else taking exams right now, I'm sure you feel my pain, and good luck to you!

Hopefully this chapter will actually explain what the hell is going on. Sorry about the poorly explained exsposition, though- I found it difficult to have a more elegant solution, but this will do for now.

**Near Dark**

Chapter 1-

The window was open slightly, and a gentle breeze wafted through, making the net curtains dance. Light and shadows flickered across the beige carpet. The tree outside rustled, and everything held itself in a state of anxious calm. Two large, brown eyes looked out into the darkness.

"Mary? Why aren't you in bed yet? I thought you'd have gone to sleep by now."

The girl closed her eyes patiently, tucking a side of thick, black, straight hair behind an ear, and turning away from the window.

"Sorry, Dad."

The tall, thin man loitering in the doorway entered Mary's room and flicked her bedside table lamp on, illuminating both his pale, drawn face, hidden by large glasses, and her rounded, young complexion. She sat on her bed cross-legged, and he leaned on her dresser.

"Honey, you've got to get more sleep. You know you haven't been doing as well in school as usual, and I think that with a proper routine-"

"I can't _get_ to sleep! No matter how hard I try! I just can't stop thinking about..."

The man bit the inside of his lips, sensing what she would say next.

"...About them...Oh, Dad...How could this have happened? How could I let this happen?" Mary shook her head, rubbing one of her eyes intensely for several seconds before peering up at her father. He gazed at her sympathetically, and by habit took off his glasses and rubbed them clean with a cloth from his pocket as he spoke.

"Mary, we've got to think about this logically. Scientifically. Firstly, it wasn't your fault that we found the Monster World, and you know that. You never told anyone about what you had experienced there. You kept your secret, your end of the bargain. This all would've happened even if you were just like any other girl." He spoke with a soft, yet firm voice, enwrapping his daughter in quiet confidence and security.

"But how did _they_ find out? I still don't get it."

"Well, you know the story. Heck, you even know the guy who found the Monster World in the first place. Billionaire by now, of course...But he found it without your help. Just a few surveillance cameras in his son's bedroom, caught it all on footage, and that was that. Those monsters were bound to be found out at some point anyway-they were entering children's bedrooms all over the world! They were the ones that should have been more careful, not us- not you."

"I've heard that story before, Dad, and you know what I think? I think it's a load of crap."

There was silence in the room for a few moments, Mary quietly seething, yet also pained by the thought of anything bad ever happening to the monsters, happening to Kitty. Her precious Kitty.

"Anyway, why can't they just leave the monster world alone? The monsters never did anything to us. Not really." Mary's eyes brimmed with tears, her cheeks shaking in the effort of holding them back.

Her father sighed, finally replacing his glasses.

"You're too young to understand, Mary," he said, less fiercely than before. Indignation swelled up in Mary's chest, and her father was clever enough to notice it- his daughter didn't like being kept out of the loop. Age was never a reason or an excuse to her. "Humans are greedy creatures. We've destroyed one world, and we're embarking on destroying another. At first, I guess it was about money; seeing what scientists could find out the most about the monster world, seeing what they could understand, and if any of it would be of use to us. Then, when the military moved in...See, look at it like this. The people taking the monster world over don't think they're doing anything wrong. They just think they're taking over another planet, like if we went to Mars, killed some of the Martians and took over their world to meet our needs- it's all for the benefit of mankind. Unfortunately, other creatures have to suffer for it."

Mary had been listening intently; for nigh on nearly a year, she had been asking the same questions, over and over again, and her father had brushed her to one side, telling her only the basic facts and that eventually, everything would be all right again. Now, she felt honoured to have been told what was happening, as though she had been told a secret by her best friend.

"But there's one important thing you have to remember, Mary." The stern tone had returned to her father's voice. "Never tell anyone else about this. Ever. Otherwise the two of us will be in deep trouble." He turned to one side, seemingly staring at blank space and said, almost to himself, "The rest of humanity isn't ready to find out what it's done." He snapped back. "And the government officials won't be too happy that you know either. If I had my way, you wouldn't have found out in the first place...Still, can't be helped." Smiling at her, he stood up, moving to tuck Mary into bed. "Have I answered all of your questions?"

Mary nodded mutely, slithering down into bed as fatigue seemed to suddenly overwhelm her.

"Kitty's alright, isn't he, Dad?"

Several seconds passed.

"He'll be fine. Now, get some sleep."

He left the dark room and closed the door softly. Walking down the hallway back into his own bedroom, he almost felt a pang of guilt, but soon brushed it away. If Mary ever found out that she was the cause for all of this, that without her, none of it would've happened...It'd kill her.

* * *

Everyone was in the dining area of the Atticus. It was cramped, stuffy, and windowless, with a small coal fire burning in a stove in one corner, keeping the cold night air at bay. Shelves lined the room, adorned with an inconceivable collection of various objects found on the Atticus' travels.

A large door balanced on a pile of cement blocks was used as a dining table, and all of the Monsters aboard were tucking into yet another dinner of lukewarm baked eyes and mashed bone marrow. The newcomer sat at the far end of the table. Still wrapped in a blanket, she timidly prodded at her plate, struggling to encourage her appetite.

"So, Shelly, how are you settling in? I assume Chuck gave you the tour? You 'bin introduced to everyone?" One of the monsters smiled, struggling to break the ice. Chuck took up this thread.

"Shelly rather likes the Atticus, don't you?" He looked around himself. "It's not much, but it's our home, and you'll soon learn how much that means. And don't worry about remembering everyone's names- you'll get it eventually. It's always a lot to take in on the first night. I still remember when Lucky was the newbie around!" A few chortles echoed around the table, as well as a nudge or two.

Despite this, Shelly's nervous disposition was not alleviated. It became clear that she was staring intently at someone as opposed to something.

Two firm green eyes stared intently back.

Chuck sensed the tension.

"Come on guys, get tucked in. Anyone who doesn't clean their plate has to do the dishes tonight!" A chorus of groans came from almost every monster present, and the scrape of cutlery against cracked plates ensued.

Yet Shelly was still staring. She felt as though she was staring only because he was, or perhaps she was just being rude and curious. Her spines bristled. That monster hadn't blinked even once.

Suddenly, he scraped back his chair and stormed out of the room. His food was untouched.

"Randall?" said Miles, but he was quietened by Chuck.

"Leave him."

"Well, don't he have to clean our dishes tonight? He ain't even touched his!" piped up another monster, a black furred creature similar in features to a bear.

"That doesn't matter right now. We need to decide where to go next. Obviously there's nothing else much here. And we need to go somewhere with an abundance of canisters, because we're into our last batch. Any suggestions?" There was some umm-ing and ahh-ing, but no feasible ideas came through. "Well, better get the map out, Ijzendoorn."

A pencil –thin monster, striped orange and red with a tuft of orange hair at the tip of his head, pushed aside everyone's dishes still brimming with food and lay out a huge map across the entire width of the table. He poured over it, quickly identifying their current location.

"We are-e-e..." he began nasally, "right here." He prodded the map. Chuck stood by his side.

"Well, the place that makes sense is Monstropolis. It's a big city, and it's barely nine hours drive away. We could make the journey tonight and get there by early morning." Everyone nodded in agreement, discussing to themselves about the prospect of visiting place once so bustling, so industrial, so famous. "Then Monstropolis it is."

* * *

The stillness was almost suffocating in comparison with their trembling heartbeats. Even in the middle of the night, the idea that danger could lurk around any corner was sometimes just too crushing too deal with.

Huddling together, the two monsters tried to make the most out of each other's company. Their hideaway had worked very well- it was in a building still almost entirely intact from the attacks, but the room they remained in was discreet, at the back of the building, and was well-insulated. There wasn't much furniture around- a few tables, some chairs- despite that fact that it appeared to have been used as a collection of offices, but it was clean and liveable.

This didn't make up for the shuddering isolation of inhabiting a city almost entirely void of any other life, but they always had each other. One of them had even sung a song about their friendship, lamenting, "I wouldn't have nothing if I didn't have you," and this idealisation was all that kept them going.

Mike's single eye darted around the room, wary of the fact that the only light source was a slowly burning oil lamp that illuminated about a metre squared of floor space. He wrapped the several thermal blankets smothering him around himself more tightly.

Suddenly, a scream echoed off the buildings outside. The two monsters jumped.

"Mike, did you hear that?"

"No, sure I didn't. _Of COURSE I DID_! THAT was the sound of someone being attacked, or killed, or something _bad happening!_"

"It could've just been a kat-fight, Mike..."

"If you aren't so worried, why did you ask me if I had heard it?"

Sulley rolled his eyes and looked the other way, letting Mike continue.

"I'll tell you why, Sulley- because YOU feel as guilty as ME!"

Sulley sighed. He had heard this all before, and it had become almost a painful routine, a vicious circle, something they couldn't get out of simply because they had nothing better to talk about, nothing else to fill their mind with.

"If you had just got rid of that kid, Sulley..." Mike said darkly, eyeing the monster he considered to be his best friend.

"Why are you bringing this up now? We've talked about it before..."

"No, _you've_ talked about it, tried to get yourself out of it, and I've listened."

"Listened?" Sulley scoffed.

"Yeah! Listened! And now it's your turn to listen! You did the wrong thing, Sul. And this is all your fault. All of it! Because if you had just got rid of that kid, then she wouldn't have blabbered to all the humans, and we wouldn't be stuck in the middle of a deserted city with no power, hardly any food, and a _bucket_ as a toilet! Sure," Mike got up, pacing heavily under his thermals, "You'd still just be a Scarer, and I'd still just be a Scare Assistant, but I didn't mind our old life. It was better than this. Now, we're in a situation we can't get out of...Everyone that's left hates us...And it's all _your FAULT!"_

Mike stormed off in a huff, leaving Sulley bewildered. Yes, they had talked about this before, and had generally agreed that ultimately, it was Waternoose's fault for causing the whole thing in the first place. Mike had never over-spilled with such anger and hate, not for a long time.

Sulley wasn't inclined to move, happy with where he was sitting, but his eyes widened at the sound of a door slamming several floors below.

Mike had gone outside.

In the middle of the night.

Downstairs, Mike stormed into the middle of the deserted street, the only light coming from the two full moons floating far above his head. He began shivering almost immediately, and paced about agitatedly for a minute, mumbling under his own breath. The danger of being outside at this time didn't strike him until his thoughts had cooled down and he had taken a few long, shuddering deep breaths.

Gradually, the shadows seemed more and more menacing. Eyes seemed to appear here and there, and then suddenly disappear. He thought he heard a low, throaty growl...

Out of the blue, two huge beams of strong white light brightened up the whole street. Every shadow was banished, every nook and cranny exposed.

Mike gasped, raising his arms to shield his face.

The world abruptly tumbled, and it took Mike several dragging seconds to realise that Sulley had knocked him to the ground for protection. Gawping up at the huge, progressing, rumbling contraption before them, they said their last prayers as they were surely going to die.

The Atticus grinded to a halt.


	3. Near Dark: Chapter 2

I'm sorry about the length of this chapter. Once I'd got started, I couldn't stop!

And, finally, a bit more Randall.

**Near Dark**

Chapter 2-

Mary's father rolled over, mumbling in his sleep. She paused. Her heart hammered away, and her face grew tense with anxiety.

Slowly stretching out her arm, she slipped her hand into her father's coat, draped over a chair by his bed. She rummaged around in the cavernous pockets until the cold, smooth metal of a bunch of keys was found. Carefully, discreetly, and without taking her eyes off her snoozing father for a single moment, she raised her arm, especially cautious of making the keys jangle, and once certain that she had got what she came for, retreated out of the room.

Leaning against the wall in the hallway, she sighed silently. There, within her pink, clammy little hands, was the chance to return to the Monster World.

* * *

"Okay everyone, we're here! Let's get sorted out. No-one leaves the Atticus without a weapon; we're in a big city now." Chuck turned back around, looking bleakly out of the front window and seeing, outside of the two bursting beams of light from the Atticus, absolute darkness.

To his immediate surprise, directly in front of the Atticus were two monsters, both obviously terrified by the heaving machine before them.

"Looks like it's gonna be easier than I thought to find survivors out here," he chuckled to himself. He smirked at Scort who was standing attentively by his side. "Go outside and make sure those two don't go anywhere."

Chuck stood up straight and faced the cockpit of the Atticus, where most of his team were finally ready and waiting. The armour some wore was thin and weak, mostly handmade, and the weapons were varied in size and power. They all understood the dangers of going into a city like this when light had not yet dawned, but it was worth it to ensure the safety of anyone who might still be alive out there. The thought of roaming a once industrial, bustling, alive city such as Monstropolis without any protective equipment whatsoever, fully exposed to the touch of any human that might be lurking out there, was enough to send shivers down the spines of certainly more than one of the crew members. It was a sickening prospect.

"We've already got two guys- Scort's down with them right now- so why don't we give them a nice, big, Atticus welcome?" A few manly cheers were raised by the team.

They filed out of the main door and down the steps, every monster wary and observant of their surroundings, but none more so than Randall. He took a shuddering deep breath.

He was home.

As they stepped out into the deep, cavernous darkness of the city streets, Randall felt overwhelmed. He had seen Monstropolis in its heyday, and although he had never been entirely happy living there, he quickly recognised some of the local shops and sights, and felt a pang of longing. It had changed so much in those eight years, yet in Randall's eyes, there was no change at all. Monstropolis had always been bleak and dark and spiteful to him.

Despite this, he felt drawn into the city. His breaths became deeper, clogging up in his throat, and his eyes grew large, shimmering in the darkness. Slowly, he wandered off, away from the group. The idea of being back in Monstropolis was almost too much for him to handle.

He stood in the middle of the street behind the Atticus, with the murmurs of the others still in earshot. Looking around was all he could do at the time. He absorbed the surroundings, feeling strangely whole again, yet ever emptier.

Randall decided that he needed a bit of time for himself.

* * *

The group gathered around the two newly-found monsters, huddling like penguins in the arctic. The two monsters seemed shaken to the core, both wide-eyed and clinging to each other as if separation meant death.

Chuck smiled warmly.

"Sorry if we gave you a bit of a fright there; our, uh, _vehicle_ has that effect on people sometimes." He presented a four-fingered hand, and the two monsters warily shook it, still silent in astonishment. "We call it the Atticus," Chuck continued, motioning to the machine. "It's home to any monsters in need of food, drink, and warmth. We'd be happy to take you two on board. That is, if you're willing to pull your weight!" A nervous ripple of chuckles went around the group.

"T-thank you," the larger monster stuttered, his fur bristling. "My name's Sulley, and this is Mike." The smaller green monster shied away, his single eye darting from one face to the next.

After an awkward pause, Mike felt compelled to say something.

"You're not gonna eat us, are ya? Because if you are, I warn you, _I know karate_!" Mike took up a fighting stance, but one that looked utterly pathetic.

"Sorry about that," Sulley apologised, holding back his friend, "he hasn't eaten anything in a while. Neither of us have..."

"Well, come on in, boys! I'll have our onboard mechanic rustle up something for you to eat. Randall?" Chuck scanned the group as the others shrugged, bemused. "Randall? Where's he gone?" More shrugs. "He got off the Atticus with us, didn't he?"

Ijzendoorn nodded with a snort, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I was directly behind him."

"Then where the heck's he gone?" Chucked glared at the rest of the group, before finally conceding with a sigh. "Ijzendoorn, _you_ take these two up. You're more use on board anyway. We'll just have to find Randall as we search the city for other monsters. You two haven't seen anyone else, have you?"

Sulley shook his head.

"Not for a few weeks now. We just stayed in the same block of flats most of the time."

"Okay then, never mind. I'm sure we'll find someone if they are out there. We haven't missed a soul yet. Let's move out, guys!"

* * *

The light clank of metal upon metal was all that gave Randall away as he wandered down a narrow alleyway. He remembered using this path as a shortcut to his old apartment, which was situated a good five minutes away.

Pausing for a moment, he adjusted the strap to the shotgun that was hanging off his right shoulder. He didn't like carrying weaponry; he felt all he ever needed to survive were his own wits. Nonetheless, he still felt considerably nervous. When he had first ambled off, he didn't give a thought to the dangers that could be surrounding him. He was just overtaken by being back in Monstropolis.

Now he realised that he had taken leave of his senses, and upon returning to them found himself in a gut-wrenching situation.

He was by himself, in the dark, and although just moments ago he was convinced of his location, suddenly everything looked slightly different and out of place. His one good eye was sending signals to his brain that caused panic to rise out of his stomach and grasp his cold breath. Suddenly, he wasn't so cock-sure about what street he was on, or where he was entirely.

Randall spun round. His eyes zipped around. He squeezed the gun.

He almost doubled up at the realisation that he was lost.

Rushing to the end of the alleyway and peering around the crumbled corner of a building, he scanned the area, desperate for a spark of recognition to settle his stomach. The street lay still, as if waiting for something to happen. He couldn't hear the rumbling engine of the Atticus.

Randall turned back into the alleyway, back against the wall, and squeezed his eyes shut. His breathing was furious, as if he wanted to suck all of the oxygen out of the air. The expression on his face was tense, concentrated, and his pallor near-white.

If a human were to catch him now, that'd be it. The end of the road.

And the idea of coming into contact with one of those creatures after what he had been through in the human world...

_Phst._

Randall stopped breathing.

He had heard something. Something...alive. It was coming to get him, he knew it, it was coming to catch him and take him away and destroy his life all over again!

The lizard-monster sped down the alleyway, into the middle of the street, sprinting as fast as he could on all eights. Sweat dotted his forehead, and every movement he made was shaky and uncontrolled. He dared not look back.

"Oh god...Oh _god..._"

A half demolished building seemed the perfect place to hide. He leapt over a crumbled wall and made for a door that led into an inner room, but as one of his hands went to turn the knob, his movements grew sluggish and his eyes rolled in their sockets.

He doubled over, retching, and slowly folded to the ground.

* * *

Sulley looked about himself warily. This vehicle was very strange, but the Atticus provided everything that Chuck had promised.

"Please, take a seat." Ijzendoorn motioned to the small table in the corner of the jumbled up room, and then began to prepare some food. Although Sulley went to sit down quite comfortably, Mike stood stock still.

"Did you hear what that guy said, Sulley?" He mouthed his words carefully, in an uncomfortable, soft tone of voice. "He said 'Randall'. Randall's here. Randall, Randall. Our Randall. The one who..."

Sulley shrugged.

"Randall's quite a common name, Mike. It might be a different Randall."

"Well, there's only one way of finding out. You-", he addressed Ijzendoorn roughly, "what does the R-Randall you know look like?"

Ijzendoorn turned from the counter. "He's purple, about so tall, scaley-"

"See! _See!_ I told you, Sulley! I knew it was him! I just knew it! It's Randall! _Randall_!" Mike flailed his arms wildly, his voice growing higher and higher.

Sulley shrugged again, still reserved.

"We still don't know it's him, Mike," he replied in an exasperated tone.

"Oh, come on, Sulley! How many purple scaley monsters with the name 'Randall' do you think are about?! It's him! He's somehow come back from banishment and now..." Mike paused. "...now...He's going to _KILL US_!"

Mike continued his ravings, pacing back and forth, sometimes muttering to himself, sometimes exclaiming wildly. Soon enough, Sulley tired of this.

"Mike!" The little green monster looked up, as if snapped back to reality. "Let's calm down. We've had a lot to take in, and right now, we need to focus on having something to eat and getting some rest. We'll think about Randall later."

Mike frowned, but soon saw his friend's way of thinking. The smell of roasted dog lung made him realise how right Sulley was, and his stomach gurgled in agreement. The two ate in silence, Ijzendoorn watching discreetly, and when they were done, he cleared their plates. They had reams upon reams of questions to ask- where did the Atticus come from? Where did the other monsters come from? Why where they there, and where did they plan on going next? Ijzendoorn willingly obliged in answering their questions, but soon the topic of conversation changed in tone.

"Where did you find Randall, then?" Mike queried. He had calmed down, and controlled his voice.

By this time, Ijzendoorn had sat down with them, his pencil-like figure carefully bent in the middle to accommodate the awkward chairs.

"To be honest, I have very little recognition of exactly what circumstances brought Randall to join our little troop. We have saved so many monsters since the Atticus has been built, and many have left us."

"But why would they leave the Atta-whatchacallit? This is like one of the few safe places to be in the entire country?"

"Uhm, they did not leave us willingly..."

Mike grimaced. "Oh." A moment passed, and the little oil lamp lighting the room flickered, sending shadows sprawling across the rickety walls and crooked ceiling. "So, what about Randall then?"

Ijzendoorn shifted in his chair, realising that Mike would not let the subject drop easily.

"He just suddenly...appeared one day. I do distinctly remember an encounter with humans, concerning food or something along those lines, and then in our efforts to escape back to the Atticus, one monster was left behind. We were all safely on board, and when the alarm was raised that someone might have been abducted by the humans, well, what could we do but that point but wait and hope that he might be able to escape the clutches of those vile beings by himself? After an hour or saw, we saw two figures in the distance. Randall had risked his own life and saved him."

Mike and Sulley glanced at each other, knowing what question they had to ask next.

"But, has Randall said anything about before all of that? Before he came on the Atticus?" Sulley said.

Ijzendoorn abruptly stood up, his chair scraping back, and attended to the washing up. Whilst facing the wall, he spoke firmly.

"You must understand, gentlemen, that Randall is a private person. He keeps himself to himself."

Nothing more was said.

* * *

It was chilly outside. The night air nipped at Mary's fingers, and she scolded herself for not having brought gloves.

She stood in the shadows of a cluster of trees, facing a large concrete building surrounded by metal fencing and barbed wire. Security was tight.

She fingered the keys in her pocket, ensuring that they were still there. Her father only ever briefly discussed his work with her, and it had taken a considerable amount of cunning and pure daring to find the location of where he worked. His paperwork wasn't as protected as he thought it was.

Yet despite having done all of her research, and having riled herself up for this very moment, the task before Mary seemed more daunting than ever. If she did somehow manage to scale these fences, how was she to know whether there were any other hidden security features about? And even if she did somehow get inside, where would she find all the active doors? What would she even do once she had entered the Monster World?

Mary began to sob, albeit very quietly. All she wanted to do was find her Kitty. She had felt a pining for him ever since she could remember, and she wanted to satisfy her yearning for a hug from someone she held so dearly in her heart.

She took a deep breath. Now was not the time to become emotional.

Creeping forward, Mary analysed her surroundings constantly, never taking a step unless she was certain that there was no-one about. The place seemed surprisingly quiet on the outside, but the inside could be teeming with scientists and people from the army and, more importantly, security guards.

Step by hesitant step, she soon reached the metal fence. Pushing her fingers through the gaps, she began to scale the vertical face, every movement a struggle- silence was of the utmost importance.

Her efforts were not enough.

Within seconds, several spotlights lit up with a bang and focused directly on her. Security guards seemed to appear out of nowhere, holding their guns in a menacing stance and surrounding her without a moment's hesitation. A voice on a loudspeaker demanded that she drop to the floor, and all Mary could do was oblige.

As the guards advanced, Mary whimpered.


	4. Near Dark: Chapter 3

I'm sorry that it's been so long since my last update. I wasn't sure whether I was even going to finish this story, but reading back through it, I thought it might be worth continuing.

I really enjoyed writing this chapter, mainly because of the bucketloads of Randall that I've included in it. Let's just say that he finally says his piece.

A severe word of warning: There is some heavy swearing in this chapter. And I do mean heavy. This was a personal decision of mine, and just goes with the intensity of the situation. There is also, at one point, quite a graphic, gory description.

So, if you don't like swearing or you have a weak constitution, please do not read on! You have been warned.

Only one more chapter to go after this one! And it'll probably be a very short chapter, too.

**Near Dark**

Chapter 3-

The door of the Atticus banged open, and four monsters strode in, Randall following closely behind. He slammed the metal door shut behind him, and twisted its circular handle firmly.

Chuck eyed him up, concerned. His tongue darted out, slurping around his own slimy face, and he motioned for Randall to step to one side. The lizard monster looked pale, bewildered, his eyes darting this way and that. As Chuck began to softly speak to him, Ijzendoorn interrupted.

"Uh, just to let you know, Chuck, I've assigned bunks to the newcomers. They're getting some rest now."

"Fine, fine." Chuck turned to the rest of the group, all of which were gathered in the heart of the Atticus, awaiting their orders. "Nice work tonight, guys. We've got three new people on board and we didn't lose anyone. Couldn't ask for more. Go and get some rest, and we'll have a morning meeting at seven to discuss where we're headed next."

Everyone wandered off, heads hanging in fatigue. Chuck held Randall back before he left.

"So," he began in a quiet voice, once assured that the two of them were alone, "what happened out there, eh, Ran? You looked pretty freaked out about something."

"I'm fine," was the stern reply.

"You sure? Because if something's wrong, I need to know. I can't afford to let people go out there-" he motioned towards the door-"if there's something wrong." Chuck paused, staring intently into Randall's pools of peridot. The lizard monster averted his gaze. "You're a valuable member of this team, Ran." Chuck clapped him on the back rather forcefully. "Now, go and see Miles. Let him check you over, make sure you're alright. Alright?"

Randall nodded soberly before heading to the back of the Atticus, where a makeshift office had been attached at an awkward angle on the side of the disjointed structure.

He entered the small, dark room carefully, barely pulling a smile over his worn face at the sight of a monster who had become almost an old, trustworthy friend; Miles.

Miles was a simple, plain-looking monster. He had dark purple skin and a cube-like body, but his two eyes seemed full of wisdom and empathy.

"Siddown, Ran."

Randall willingly obliged, balancing on a small, rickety stool that threatened to topple over on the uneven floor. Before Miles was a basic first aid kit laid out on a small table, many of its items worn and dirty. He started fiddling with a few bits and pieces, but was almost immediately interrupted.

"I'm fine, you know." Randall sounded flat, apathetic, listless.

"Chuck says otherwise." Leaning forward, Miles latticed his fingers, engaging Randall in a way he couldn't ignore. "What happened out there, Ran? Chuck told me you panicked. Something went wrong. What was it? Did you see something out there? Something...dangerous?"

"No, no...It was nothing like that. It was nothing at all. Really."

Miles sighed. Getting blood out of a stone seemed a simple task in comparison to extracting information out of Randall.

"Well, physically, you look fine, bar a few cuts and bruises. You need some rest, Ran. There should be a bunk free, although I'm not sure what the official sleeping arrangements are now that we've got those newcomers in."

The two monsters stood, their short conversation coming to an end.

"What are the new guys like, anyway?" Randall asked, showing vague interest as he pushed the stool under the table.

"It's two guys this time round. Haven't really had a chance to talk to them yet, but they seem nice enough."

"Any muscle?" Randall followed Miles out of the room, heading towards the room where all the bunk beds hung.

"Yeah, one of them is huge. A big furry; horns, claws, the lot. The little guy isn't much, though."

Randall paused, suddenly very interested in what Miles was saying. Turning, he leaned against a metallic wall, stopping Miles in his tracks.

"And the little guy, what does he look like? Hm?"

Miles frowned, confused, but answered the question nonetheless. "Green, round, a Cyclops. And one whiney voice, I'll tell you that much."

Randall nodded slowly, then swallowed deeply.

"Okay."

"Randall, what's the big deal? They're just a couple of new guys. What, you know them or something?"

Randall's eyes narrowed.

"You could say that."

* * *

Mary whimpered. She didn't really understand what was going on, aside from the fact that she had been caught in the act and now had a lot of darkly dressed men prodding and poking her.

"You shouldn't be here, little girl. Naughty, naughty little girl."

One grabbed her arm, whilst another twisted the skin on her wrist, forcing her hand open.

"Ah, what do we have here?" The man took the keys from her palm and jangled them. "Do these belong to Daddy?" His mock childish voice turned sinister and devilish within a moment. "Not anymore." He threw them to one side and stood straight up. "Find the girl's father and bring him here. I want to talk to this traitor before I have him and his daughter shot."

Several men fussed about Mary, tying up her hands and ankles and holding her down firmly. Others scuttled about in an environment which Mary was still unable to recognise in her shock.

Slowly but surely, everything rushed back to her.

She had spoken to her father. He'd been involved in all of this, involved in the invasion of the Monster World. She'd stolen his keys, intent on going to the Monster World herself and saving the two monsters that had helped her so long ago.

But they'd caught her. And now they were going to kill her.

"MARY!"

The voice of her father echoed across the huge room, which seemed to suddenly be full of doors, hundreds and hundreds of doors, of every shape, size and colour.

"DAD!" Mary called back, but her voice appeared to be distant, as if in another world. Her father tried to call out once again, but the guards had him in their firm grip and had swiftly gagged him. They brought him over, standing him only three or four metres away from where Mary was being held.

"You thought you could deceive us. You silly little man." The gentleman who had just been threatening Mary was now speaking to her father in an even darker, more sinister tone. He was speaking so quietly that Mary could barely make out what he was saying. "...helping the Monsters...not worthy to be a human...deserves _death_..."

There was a loud bang, and the man stopped talking. Mary struggled against the guards holding her, turning just enough to see her father crumpled on the floor, legs folded beneath his torso, blood pouring out of a hole in his skull the way water flows out of a faucet.

Now the horrible man was standing next to her.

"Silly, silly little girl."

Mary felt metal against her forehead.

* * *

The sun rising against the deserted city was quite a sight to see. The silhouettes of the jagged buildings, all lopsided and asymmetrical, created a sort of strange beauty. Coupled with absolute silence, some might have found the experience quite uncomfortable, but Randall was almost at ease with the scene.

According to the position of the sun in the sky, it would be nearly time for the morning meeting. Randall clambered down off the Atticus, his scales suitably warmed by the early morning rays of light, and quietly snuck back inside the travelling home.

A few others were up and about in the main room of the Atticus, bleary eyed and moody after the previous night's shenanigans. There was an unnecessary amount of yawning and stretching going on until Mike and Sulley entered the room.

The eye contact between the three of them was electric. Randall stared at Sulley; Sulley stared at Randall; Mike didn't know where to look, and was the first to break the air of unease.

"I _knew _it! Just _knew _it! I told you it was Randall, Sul, but oh, no, 'of course it isn't Randall, it _can't _be...Hey, hey, hey, hey!"

Randall had stormed up to Sulley, grabbing him by a fistful of chest fur, and dragged him across the room and outside. Sulley almost fell down the steep steps to the ground as Randall continued pulling him along, sneering and baring his teeth, swearing under his breath and gesticulating with his free hands. Mike followed behind, waving and shouting, as the others on board the Atticus peeked outside in bewilderment.

"Hey, Randall, let Sulley go! Let him go! Sulley! Sul! What are you doing?! Knock him one! Sul!"

Sulley shrugged, signalling that he didn't want to harm Randall. The pulling of his fur wasn't painful, and he was prepared to hear what Randall had to say.

Unfortunately, Randall didn't have much to say. He had dragged Sulley around to the other side of the Atticus where long shadows were stretching out across the road, and where the others couldn't see what was going on. He pushed Sulley against the hard, cold, metal side of the Atticus, growled deeply, and swung for him with all his might.

The contact of his fist with Sulley's stomach created a dull thump, and Sulley winced. Randall's punches had definitely improved over the years.

"You...you...piece of crap...stupid..._god..._"

Randall's features strained with turmoil. He turned, hands behind his head, cursing under his breath and shooting fierce glares at Sulley every other moment. Gritting his teeth, he balled his fists, seeming to aim for Sulley again. Sulley threw his arms up in defence.

"Randall...?"

The lizard monster buried his face in a hand, the other still clenched. He exploded. His punch narrowly missed the still wincing furry, slamming into the Atticus with a powerful, painful thwack.

"_FUCK!"_

Randall pressed his forehead against the metal side as the two Mons looked on.

Seconds passed, crawling by like years, until Sulley felt it was right to settle the situation. He turned to Mike, who was still in shock at Randall's actions.

"Mike, me and Randall are going to have to talk. Get back on the...the thing, the Atticus, and wait for us there. Tell the others that we won't be long."

"But...But Sul, he tried to hurt you! What kind of a guy does-"

"Mike, now. Please."

The rare edge of sternness in Sulley's voice was enough to convince Mike to leave immediately, although as he went, the tempetation to attack Randall was still there.

Sulley faced Randall, who had remained standing there, eyes downwards, forehead pressed against the Atticus.

Sulley began tentatively. "...Should we talk about this?"

"No." Randall turned around, eyes bursting with disgust and hatred, his whole figure shaking with tension. His heart hammered in his throat. The sound of tooth gritting against tooth rattled his skull. "I'll talk. You'll listen."

Sulley nodded, giving consent.

With this, it was as though every word Randall wanted to say came out of his mouth at the same time. He spluttered, struggling to sound coherent. Every breath was out of control, and his mind spun with images of everything he'd ever experienced.

"You...you did this to me." He threw his arms down. "Every scar...Every mark...Everything. It's all your fault." Each word was enunciated carefully. "Maybe not you personally, but people like you. I've gone through my whole life dealing with fucktards like you who think that you can be all perfect and popular without it having an effect on anyone else. Well, here's a newsflash for ya, Sullivan- IT DOES. I can't go through a _single pissing day_ without in part reliving some shitty memory of when others have shown me up. Ya know what I was doing all last night? Do ya? I was puking up everywhere. I've never felt so sick in my life, and it was all down to the thought of seeing you two again. And ya know what? I'm fed up of it. I can't do this anymore."

He paused. The ground seemed very interesting to him for a while. Then, he set his jaw and continued.

"No. No, you know, you were right. Sort of. I did bad things...Lots of bad things. That whole...Scream Extractor thing, or whatever? Yeah. Bad choice. Well," he scoffed, "not really a choice, because of that gobshite Waternoose blackmailing me..." He went off on a tangent, mumbling to himself. Sulley became rather concerned until Randall snapped back into line. "But whatever. I built the machine, I take responsibility for it and for the harm it caused. Admittedly, yes, I wanted to use that kid, the one you got attached to, but how was I supposed to know that the two of you had formed some kind of _bond_ together? I'm not friggin' psychic, y'know. But...B-but banishing me?"

Randall stuttered. This was going to be difficult to say.

"_Banishing_ me...? I..."

"Look-"

"No. Let me say this." He took a deep breath. Randall's tone was dark and quiet. "You didn't need to do that, Sullivan. Didn't need to do that at all. And those years in the Human World...It was hell. I learnt my lesson. Like heck I learnt my lesson. But I still can't stop thinking about what might've happened. What might've been. If you'd just given me a chance...That's all I ever needed, y'know? Someone to just give me a chance, just...just once."

Randall's eyes were directed at Sulley's torso. The thought of making eye contact was more than he could bear, especially as they were beginning to brim with long overdue tears.

Sulley looked at Randall with fresh eyes. Before him stood a relatively young, yet ever so old monster, his body beaten by years of neglect, his soul rotten and tattered. He finally realised that the hundreds of scars criss-crossing his scales was nothing in comparison to how he'd been hurt inside.

"We'd better go...The others will be wondering where we are."

Randall turned back into the shadows, suddenly embarrassed. "You go. I'll be there in a minute."

Sulley walked off, turning into the sunlight, but as he was about to leave, he remembered something. "Uh..." Randall didn't bother to look up as Sulley stood there, gawkily rubbing his neck. "I'm sorry, Randall."

Sulley went round to the other side of the Atticus, climbing back on board as everyone prepared to set off to their next destination.


	5. Near Dark: Chapter 4

Well, this is it. The final chapter of this rather long short story.

This one was a difficult one to write. Actually, the whole thing was ruddy difficult, since I'm rubbish at doing stuff that's even remotely original and my brain can't deal with lots of stuff at once. But I'm pleased it's finished now, even if the ending isn't as satisfying as it could've been.

And yes, it's a pretty long chapter. I originally planned for it to be short, but apparently not...

Also, thanks to everyone who's reviewed this. From now on, this short stories will be short- one or two chapters, at the most- so there won't be any more unnecessary waiting around for me to update.

**Near Dark**

Chapter 4-

The Atticus had been rumbling along for a solid two days. They had left the deserted streets of Monstropolis three Mons heavier, yet the atmosphere within the heaving structure was decidedly sour.

Arrival at the next city was scheduled for that afternoon, and a lot depended on what the next abandoned city had to offer; both fuel and food were running low on the Atticus, and although no-one liked to say it, thoughts of breaking down or, even worse, starving to death were playing on everyone's minds.

Aside from Randall's, that is. He had pretty much given up caring about his own fate, let alone the fate of the others on board. In his own mind, he felt as if he had nothing to live for. Well, almost nothing. Whether or not this was true would be decided at their next destination, Shriek City. Randall wasn't keeping his hopes up- years of suffering and torment led him to always rely on the worst scenario to occur- but there was always a chance that she was still there. A slim chance, but a chance nonetheless.

It seemed as though his will for survival was finally giving up. The years in the Human World tested him to his limits, but no matter what, he always strived to survive. At some points, he couldn't even consciously describe what it was that he was living for. He was just living for living. Instincts demanded that he carry on- he was just too stubborn to give up.

Yet even this will to survive had now abandoned him. What _was_ the point anymore?

He sat in the corner of the cockpit, slumped on the floor, arms folded and expression dark and pensive. Before him, Chuck was manoeuvring the Atticus with apparent ease, his hands dancing across the poorly constructed control panel, his every delicate touch and tweak getting them through the rough landscape quickly.

Chuck glanced down at Randall. The silence was becoming almost too awkward.

"You talked to him, then?"

Randall looked up for a moment, then down again, eyes focusing on his sharply flicking tail. News spread fast through the Atticus, and it seemed that within five minutes of his confrontation with Sulley, the whole conversation (or rather, the whole of Randall's rant) had been relayed several times over.

"You know what happened. Don't ask stupid questions."

Chuck shook his head.

"Quite a coincidence though, huh? The two guys you hate most in the world managed to survive this whole thing and we just happened to pick them up."

"Yes. Quite a coincidence," replied Randall, bitterly.

"You know, Randall, you'd be surprised how much better you'd feel if you just let it go."

"...Let it _go_?"

"Yeah. Forgive them. I mean, there aren't many of us left in this world anymore. Time's running out for us Monsters. The Humans have nearly taken over. We're pretty much done for. Doesn't this put some petty argument you once had into perspective?"

After a few seconds of yet another eerie silence (aside from the roaring of the Atticus' engine), Randall stood up, moving close to Chuck, and spoke directly into his ear in a low, angry whisper.

"It _wasn't_ petty."

He went out of the room with a dark scowl etched on his face, shutting the door firmly behind him.

The next room he went in unfortunately contained the two Monsters causing said dark scowl. Randall stood in the doorway, glaring at Mike and Sulley who seemed to be innocently sitting at the small dining table snacking on a sort of rice product. The two of them paused mid-mouthful, staring back at Randall. Mike accidentally dropped a handful of rice onto the floor, yet his eye remained firmly fixated on Randall's defiant stance.

Randall looked ready to explode- or implode. One or the other.

"I forgive you," he hurriedly uttered. He then turned on his heel, heading straight back into the cockpit. Mike and Sulley glanced at each other.

"You said it would make me feel better," Randall growled at Chuck, who hadn't overhead what had happened but had an idea as to what might've gone on, and was at that moment feeling particularly proud of his influence on the lizard-monster.

"You have to mean it, Randall."

Randall looked out through the wide windows of the cockpit, turning away from Chuck.

"You've got to make your peace, Randall. You'll regret it if you don't."

Randall snorted.

"Says who? Why do they deserve my forgiveness? It's not as if they've apologised properly anyway."

Slowly shaking his head, Chuck struggled to find the right words. A simple thing like forgiveness did not seem to come easily to Randall.

"You know how they feel about you. Sulley in particular. Over these past few days, they've both shown as much respect to you as possible. They clearly regret what they've done, and this whole situation has made them realise how wrong they were." Chuck looked at Randall for a long moment, eventually turning his attention back to steering. "You need to do this, Randall. If you don't...Well. Let's say I know what it's like to let someone die without giving them another chance. It kills you, it really does. I just don't want you to be in the same situation."

"And I appreciate that," Randall said decisively. "But that doesn't change the situation I'm in."

He sat back down in the corner of the cockpit, shadows sweeping over his face as the sun began to set.

"Anyways, I've got other things to think about. Sullivan and Wazowski don't matter."

* * *

It was the following morning. The entrance to Shriek City stood before the Atticus, once tall and proud, now just a pile of rubble and dust. This city, like many others before, looked dead, but there was always a chance of a survivor or two. One in particular was at the forefront of Randall's anxious mind.

Everyone gathered in the main room of the Atticus for the morning meeting. Patrol groups were assigned, each with their own leader. Randall was to lead the second group out, after Chuck and some others had made an initial report on the status of the city. They would explore for a little while, ensuring that the area was safe before penetrating the city walls.

"Got that, everyone? Okay, let's g-"

Chuck's loud voice was cut short by a ferocious BANG, and the Atticus shook and groaned. Everyone held on for dear life, gripping on the dining table and leaning against the walls.

Soon after, a second loud bang occurred. The Atticus swayed from side to side.

Chuck rushed into the cockpit to be faced with a tank. A human tank.

"EVASIVE ACTION, _NOW_!" He put the Atticus in gear and slammed the throttle down, the Atticus zooming around the tank with surprising nimbleness. Yells could be heard from others on board as they were thrown from side to side.

Ijzendoorn appeared in the cockpit, shaken.

"Wh-what are we going to do?!"

"We are going to get out of this place as quickly as possible," Chuck said, trying to remain calm. The Atticus was going at full speed, leaving a dust trail that obscured the view of anything behind.

Ten agonizing minutes later, and the humans were nowhere to be seen. Chuck slowed the Atticus down a little, mindful of their fuel running out. They were now in the centre of the city, surrounded by empty high rise buildings and abandoned vehicles. Gradually, they ground to a halt. Everyone on board collectively sighed.

Chuck returned to the main room to see at least a dozen pale, panicked faces.

"I think we lost them. But it's not safe to go out there, no way-"

"Yeah, and what about the survivors?" Randall interrupted, seemingly unperturbed by what had just happened.

"There might not even be any survivors, Randall. Especially with so many Humans close by."

"Fair enough. So answer me this," the lizard-monster continued as all eyes turned on him. "What happens when we run out of fuel? Eh?"

Chuck returned Randall's defiant stare with an equally commanding look. He much preferred it when Randall had been the quiet, secretive one.

"...You're right. We've got enough fuel to find the nearest Laughter Station and park up next to it. Then we'll need a few volunteers to go out and collect some canisters. That's our plan for now," Chuck sighed, looking, for the first time as the Atticus' commander, almost defeated. "Though it's subject to change."

He headed back into the cockpit, the engineers returning to the engine room and the others settling down, ready to make a move. The nearby presence of the Humans had made everyone nervy and quiet, and there was almost a chill in the air at the thought of what might happen if the Humans managed to catch up.

Randall pushed some others aside roughly, following Chuck into the cockpit and taking him to one side by putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Look, Chuck," Randall began, his face suddenly closer than Chuck had realised. The scar that ran down the length of his face, jagged and sickening, looked strangely fresh. His voice was low, threatening. "I gotta get out there. I gotta see if she's still alive. I know where we are, and I know where she lives – lived," he corrected himself.

"Randall-"

"I'm not asking ya, I'm telling ya. Got it?"

Chuck paused, then nodded.

"It's your decision, Randall. But I can't send anyone out to help you. I just can't risk it."

"Fair enough."

* * *

The Atticus was parked up by the side of a Laughter Station- it was too large to enter it. Chuck had gathered a few of the monsters onboard, Randall and Sulley included, and they prepared to go outside. Various weapons were being loaded, protective gear was being worn where appropriate, yet despite this, Mike fussed over Sulley to the point of driving him to distraction.

"Are you sure about this, Sul?"

"It'll be fine, Mike."

"Whatever you do, Sul, if anything goes wrong, just save yourself! Okay? If you see a Human, come back here right away, because you are not leaving me behind, Sulley! No way!"

Mike's panic was interrupted by Chuck calling everyone together. The group was ready to set off.

With Chuck leading the way, the six monsters assigned to this mission slowly disembarked the Atticus, each peering from left to right, padding forward slowly and cautiously. When they were sure that the coast was clear, Chuck signalled for the larger ones of the group to move forward and start looking for any abandoned canisters, whilst the others stood guard.

The sun was at its peak in the sky. The swathe of clear blue above seemed almost unaware of the devastation below, a few Monbirds skirting about and whirling in the air, twittering with such ease and contentment that the Monster World had long since forgotten.

Randall watched the Monbirds with unease. He had to leave the group behind, but as much as he hated to admit it, he did care about the others on board the Atticus, Chuck especially; he had been supportive of Randall at every moment, even when he was at his most difficult. To just abandon them seemed traitorous, but if all went to plan, Randall would return safe and sound and with another Mon to add to the crew.

The others were progressing slowly. They'd found a few large canisters and were rolling them towards the Atticus carefully, so as not to let any of the Laughter escape- the canisters were battered and damaged.

All of a sudden, a loud, deep _BOOM_ reverberated around the area, and smoke could be seen in the distance. Scattered gunfire erupted. The Humans had found something, and they were coming ever closer.

With everyone distracted and turned in the other direction, Randall seized his chance. He shifted, blending into the background, and slithered off as fast as he could- time was not on his side. He'd have to find her and take her back to the Atticus before they left, and with the Humans approaching ever nearer, Randall could count on Chuck and the others completing their task quickly.

He hugged the rather large gun he was carrying to his chest. In a matter of moments, Randall had managed to go down the street and turn a corner; the Atticus was out of sight, and the lizard-monster felt utterly alone. Slowing his pace, he became wary, his imagination making him hear and see things that weren't really there. But he'd have to concentrate on the task in hand.

A sign on a building at the end of this street pointed out that Randall was now walking down "Yelp Road". He was headed for a house two blocks away.

An eternity seemed to pass between Randall reading this sign and arriving at his destination. He scurried along as quickly as he could, appearing simply as a floating gun and a few sharp hovering teeth, but despite being invisible, he still felt considerably unsafe. Nearly all of the windows in the buildings were broken, so glass was scattered about on the ground. Vehicles were randomly placed about the road, some upside-down, others crushed until they were almost unrecognisable. Yet there were very few bodies, even of animals, left behind. This seemed to be common of most of the cities they had visited- the Humans seemed interested in experimentation, as opposed to mindless slaughtering.

Either that, or they wanted the Monster World to fully decontaminated ready for their own official arrival.

As he finally turned into the road that he had been looking for, Randall slowed his hurried pace. The sight before him was different and shocking to anything he had seen since the invasion.

Almost all of the buildings had been knocked down along the street, some now just a pile of rubble and dust. Bodies lay strewn across the pavement and road, and Monster weaponry could be found scattered about here and there. This seemed to be the location of a severe struggle between the two sides, and it was obvious which side had been victorious.

Randall gradually padded forward, stopping at the site where a small, modest block of flats had stood amongst the previously taller buildings. Only two walls, part of the back and the left hand side, were now standing. The rest of the pile could barely be deciphered between walls, furniture and bodies.

As he inched forward, the stench of rotting flesh weaselled its way into his nostrils, curling down his throat and choking him. With clenched teeth, Randall began to move some of the larger stones and bricks, gently rolling over a body or two when necessary.

Ten minutes of foraging passed. His breathing became more rapid. He shook his head.

She wasn't here. Thank God.

Randall turned, climbing down off the heap and back onto the road, when something caught his eye. A little glimpse of blue to the left, in a lump of rubble he hadn't noticed- it was placed between this building and the next.

The blue was identifiable as Randall approached the slab of stone.

But, just to be sure, Randall carefully lifted the stone up. His hands felt clammy, his throat dry and rough, stinging. The hammering of his heart shuddered throughout his whole body. He pressed his tongue up against the roof of his mouth.

It was her.

Marie.

* * *

I'd appreciate any advanced critique with this one. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, so any suggestions as to how I could improve it (as I'm sure there are _many_ ways in which this chapter could be improved) are welcome.


	6. Primoris Deis

Here's a one-shot of mine. I've had this idea for a long time, and although it's pretty basic, it was fun to finally get down and write it.

I'm sure I've made plenty of silly mistakes (it is ten past three in the morning, after all), so any comments in terms of how I can improve this thing would be very helpful.

Oh, and the title is Latin because I thought I'd be all fancy instead of calling it the obvious 'Randall's First Day! H'yuk!'

**Primoris Deis**

_BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP._

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP-_

A hand slammed down on the alarm clock, stopping it from almost shaking itself off the bedside table.

For the past hour and a half, Randall had been lying in bed, wide awake and tense with excitement. As he hadn't had a chance to hang his curtains up, he had watched the sun's movement out of his bedroom window, seeing the first birds of the day twitter past, hearing the first shops beginning to open in preparation for good day's trade. He had been waiting for that alarm clock to ring with such fervent anticipation that when it had finally exploded with comical noise and movement, like something from one of those old black and white _Mickey Monster_ cartoons, he had practically jumped out of bed.

Today was the day.

With a broad grin, Randall approached the window and looked out at the city below as it slowly woke itself up, rubbed its tired eyes and made itself a cup of coffee.

"Hmm," Randall said to himself at the thought of coffee. He _did_ feel a tad sluggish, after all, and one cup wouldn't hurt now, would it?

With a chuckle at the thought of his college days, pulling all-nighters with pen in one hand, a textbook in another, some notes in his third and, yes, of course, a cup of coffee in his fourth, Randall went into his kitchen.

Now for a nourishing breakfast, the most important meal of the day. Rummaging through the cupboards, Randall found a disappointing amount of edible food. Shopping had not been at the top of his list of priorities over the past week, but only now did he realise just how little food he had.

Randall opened the fridge, raising an eyebrow ridge at a box of eggs. Soon enough, he was frying two eggs in a little saucepan, glancing every now and then at the coffee tin on the side that seemed to almost be mocking him.

The last time he had coffee, he became addicted to the stuff. It took him a good two months to get it out of his system, and he didn't want to start his new job on the wrong foot, so to speak. Monsters, Incorporated had such a clean, family-friendly feel that he worried about emitting the wrong sort of image.

Then again, it was only coffee.

Randall reached out at the white, dented tin, succumbing to his love of the tantalising combination of bitterness and caffeine.

* * *

It certainly was a pleasant day. The sun gently warmed Randall's scales, and as he strolled confidently down the street, sometimes smiling at passers-by, the factory came into view.

It was so big. Overwhelming, almost. It seemed intimidating, yet friendly, like that really nice primary school teacher you had in Year 3 that would encourage the students with a stern, yet sympathising tone of voice. A potent combination indeed.

The car park was massive beyond belief, and as employees zoomed around in their cars, struggling to find somewhere to park up, Randall felt lucky to live within walking distance of the place. Anyway, the walk was refreshing, rejuvenating almost, and it gave him time to think of what was to come that day. It was a very important day, after all. Scarily important.

Today had to go well. Randall knew from personal experience that first impressions were the _only_ impressions anyone ever judged by.

Suddenly, he was there, at the entrance. The small double doors were modest yet strangely mocking, and they betrayed the interior. Other employees passed through them with ease (some glancing at Randall as they walked by- it might've been the fact that he was new, or perhaps it was that they'd never met someone so fascinated by a set of doors before) but this was a big step.

One small step for Randall, and undoubtedly one big step for his ego.

And now he was inside the factory. He'd been in there before, but this time, it was different. This time, he was an _employee_.

The hustle and bustle was unsurprising, but did not serve to help Randall as he wandered, vaguely lost, up to the reception desk.

"Er, hey, Celia," Randall said, the familiar face of the receptionist a real comfort when everything else was so alien- she had directed him to the offices when Randall had last visited the factory for his interview.

"Oh, hello, uhm..." Celia began, searching for a name.

"Randall," the lizard-monster said.

"Oh, of course! Randall! I remember you now! So, first day then? Getting all excited?"

"Yeah," Randall said, half smiling and half grimacing (as only Randall could, with such a large mouth). "Though, uh, I don't really know where I'm supposed to be going...I've got this, er, this letter in here somewhere..." He rustled around in his bag, which seemed to be overflowing with paperwork, pens, gum, and coffee.

"Yeah, here we go." Randall produced a crumpled piece of paper and handed it over to Celia who scanned through it. "It's not helpful at all."

Celia tutted to herself. "No, it wouldn't be; Waternoose just hired a new secretary to sort out his papers, and she's the one that sent out these letters to all of the new Scarers. Look at those typos..." She tutted again.

"So, where should I go?" Randall was becoming increasingly aware of the time.

"Oh, just head over to the Scare Simulator- that's where all the new people usually start." Celia handed the letter back to Randall, who tucked it into his bag.

"And that's where, exactly?" he said, looking up again.

"Oh, of course! You don't know your way around yet." Celia giggled absentmindedly to herself. Randall blinked. This conversation seemed to be taking a long time. "Just go down the passageway to the left there-" Celia motioned, leaning over the desk, "and take the second right. It's just down the end of the corridor."

"Okay, thanks. See ya around."

Celia gave a quick wave goodbye before sweetly answering someone she had put on hold.

Randall walked down where he'd been told to go, shaking his head to himself for a moment before once again being grasped the terrifying newness of the situation he was in.

He soon noticed the amount of attention that he seemed to be attracting. It was flattering at first, as Randall was proud of what he had achieved and was managing to see things in a positive light, but eventually his worst fears started to gnaw at his mind. Surely not all new guys garnered this much attention? Was it that much of a big deal?

Randall sighed, then tugged the corners of his mouth into a smile as he approached the door labelled 'Scare Simulator'. He wasn't going to let a bunch of yammering idiots ruin this day.

With a silent yet sharp intake of breath, he pushed the door open. All eyes turned to the lizard-monster, and he felt his cheeks burst with warmth as he blushed deeply.

"You're late, Mr. Boggs," said a stern voice, a voice which Randall recognised without even having to look at the Mon it was coming from.

"Uh, sorry, I didn't know where to go, uh, what I was doing-"

"Everyone else managed it." Waternoose paused. Randall's heart sank in his chest as the embarrassment made him feel quite nauseous. "Well, take a seat then."

Randall scurried over to a spare chair, squirming awkwardly in his seat as everyone continued to stare at him. He turned his eyes downwards, trying his utmost to forget what had just happened. The thought of mucking this up made his gut twist and turn.

It took him a while to realise that Waternoose was speaking.

"...are the future of this company. I, personally, am relying on you to do a good job out there, to scare children as they've never been scared before. As you can imagine, I don't usually have the time to personally greet the new Scarers being brought in." Waternoose paused, standing tall with his hands intertwined behind his back. In any other situation, he would appear to be a proud, respectable and rather wealthy Mon, but in the current low lighting of the Scare Simulator, his 

silhouette was intimidating. "Yet here I am, welcoming each and every one of you,"- he swung a pointing finger at the untrained Scarers-"to Monsters, Incorporated."

With a lukewarm smile, Waternoose strode out of the room, (as best as one can with crab-like, sideways legs) and let the door swing shut behind him. The impression he left was one of awe, shock and excitement- the trainees never expected to meet the head honcho, the guy in charge, the chief himself, and on their first day!- but Randall was left feeling strangely unimpressed.

Waternoose had always appeared to be rather grandfatherly, and he seemed to be what made Monsters, Inc. such a family-friendly type company. It was only an energy company, so it wasn't as though the relationship it had with its customers was the most important element, especially not as important as the advertising campaigns made it out to be, and yet it seemed that everyone saw MI as some sort of magical place, where wondrous things occurred, where everyone was happy, everything was innocent and nothing could go wrong.

Randall could be described as onion-like. He knew it, and the few people close to him knew it. He wasn't always as he appeared, and this was fair enough; it wasn't as if he was the CEO of some large corporation.

Waternoose also appeared to be onion-like. At least, that's what Randall thought, because he simply couldn't get the feeling out of his stomach that there was something the CEO wasn't being open about. The word 'shifty' sprang to mind. He was almost _too_ nice, to the point where one had to wonder where the grandfatherly image ended and the businessman began.

Ms. Flint, who had been sitting behind her desk as Waternoose spoke to the trainees, now swivelled her chair around to come face to face with a lot of nervous Mons wringing their wrists and clearly getting excited at the prospect of scaring.

"Hello, everyone," she began, in the most uninterested, bored tone she could manage. "Welcome to the Scare Simulator. This is where we'll begin to practise the 'art' of scaring,"- she coated the word 'art' with thick, dripping sarcasm-"and where you'll spend the majority of your time training and practising, and getting ready to eventually go out on the Scare Floor. Basic technique training will also be conducted on the Scare Floor assigned for Trainees. We carry out lectures in Monsters, Inc.'s very own lecture theatre which is just down the corridor. That's where you are to report every morning at 9:00am for the next two weeks." Everything she said sound heavily scripted, as though she had been through this many a time, the same sea of around fifteen faces gazing at her uneasily. Even the little wings atop her head were drooped.

Turning back to the side of her desk, Ms. Flint reached to a pile of handbooks and began passing them out. They were thick, heavy, binded with rings of metal, and smelt of lightly toasted plastic.

"These are your Scaring Guides. Every rule and regulation in Scaring is in your Scaring Guide, along with tips and techniques of how to scare, a diary, some note space, and...some other useful stuff that I can't remember right now. You only get one copy. You lose this one, you break it, you accidentally flush it down the toilet, you pay for the replacement. Got it?" The trainees nodded mutely. Randall vaguely recognised what Ms. Flint was saying- it had a slight déjà vu feel to it...

Ah, yes. High school, when the teachers would give out the already battered, tired textbooks for the year. That was it.

"If you can all turn to page 32 of your Guides to Scaring, where the basic precautions of entering a child's room are outlined in bold..."

Randall flicked through the solid lump that was his Scaring Guide. It all looked incredibly tedious; just pages and pages of text, with the odd diagram. Even the photo on the front of a Scarer jumping out to surprise a child in his bedroom looked false.

This wasn't what he had expected. He thought that Scaring would be more of an intuitive skill, an instinct that only Mons born to be Scarers possessed. They were unique, special, rare and highly prized. You could not merely _train_ someone into becoming a Scarer if they were not destined to be one. Only those with the raw talent could ever truly become a Scarer!

Apparently not.

"...And that's it for this morning's overview. Lunch will be served in less than ten minutes, and you're all to report here at half past one for an afternoon of Scare Training."

The potential Scarers looked at each other, excited at the prospect of actually doing something, before starting to pack up their books and pens.

Ms. Flint slammed her copy of the Guide to Scaring shut, looking ever more irritated. But before the Scarers could leave, she remembered something quite important.

"Oh, and there's going to be a special guest this afternoon- Fangs McDonald himself. I'm not sure why he's here, but he is. So that's something else all you new Scarers can get giddy about, as if you weren't overexcited enough..."

Her mutterings weren't to be heard as, sure enough, the Scarers had become incredibly excited at the prospect of meeting someone as infamous as Fangs McDonald himself. He was known throughout the whole city- and beyond- as the holder of the All Time Scare Record, and his scaring techniques were studied carefully by those also wishing to become successful Scarers. He had now been retired for two years, but had spent the time training potential Top Scarers and touring Monsters, Inc. factories nationwide, giving inspirational talks and, occasionally, one-to-one sessions.

Ms. Flint was now very bored of the Scarers, and so began to usher them out of the room.

"Shoo! Just go to lunch already. Out, out, out!"

The new Scarers scurried out of the small room, still chattering away frantically. Randall bristled as the others barged past, eyeing the others with a look of displeasure.

He ambled along behind them, slightly perturbed by the way they all seemed happy to talk to each other like school friends who hadn't seen each other over a long, uneventful summer. During Ms. Flint's talk that morning, Randall had spent a fair amount of time looking around at the other young 

potentials, trying to gauge their personalities, and get an idea of the type of people he'd be working with for the next few months or so. Unfortunately, he had been disappointed.

Randall was not one to judge by first impressions- this had happened to him too many times- and so he tried his best not to draw any wild conclusions from what he had seen, but there was something eerily..._similar_ about them all. Of course, they were all eager, raring to go, and they generally looked like Scarers; sharp teeth, claws, lots of eyeballs, that sort of thing.

But aside from that, Randall couldn't help feel as though he were back in High School, as cliques were already developing and it was becoming easy to pinpoint the characters of the group- the 'class clown', the 'nerd', that sort of thing. It was unnerving.

He followed the group down to the cafeteria, as they all seemed to have maps of the company (_'why didn't I get one of those?_') and opened his eyes a little wider, vaguely impressed with the modern-looking seating area and kitchens. It was a large room, with very high ceilings and long skylights, almost representing a Scarefloor in a way. It had a bright, appealing aura, and felt as though it was the heart of the factory.

Wandering up to the cafeteria bar, Randall grabbed a tray and slid it along, gazing over at the food behind the clear screens. Most of it looked like brown sludge. His gaze slowly moved up, until he came eye to eye with a hefty dinner lady, whose slimey body looked less pleasant than the grub itself.

Randall pointed in the direction of the slop.

"What's _that_?"

"Today's special," the dinner lady replied gruffly, scooping up a particularly large spoonful of the stuff and plopping it down on a plate. She dropped it onto Randall's tray, huffily turning to the next Mon the queue.

Randall shrugged, not in the mood to make any snide comments. He moved along, picking up a thick energy drink (he figured it might come in handy for the training session later), and some cutlery, and went to the till to pay.

By this time, the room was getting crowded as more Scarers and their Assistants, as well as other members of staff, piled in.

Randall looked around, thinking about where he should sit- there was still a fair amount of space, but it didn't make sense for him to sit by himself. No, this time, he wouldn't be the loner, certainly not. It was boring always being by yourself, and he was sure that if he made the effort today, he would reap the rewards later on, even if it did mean speaking to people he wouldn't usually give the time of day to.

Spotting the table where most of the new Scarers from earlier on seemed to be sitting, still chattering away incessantly Randall made a beeline for the last free stool and forced a smile as he slithered down.

"Hey, guys," he beamed.

Aside from a few nods, there was no acknowledgment from the others. The chatter immediately died.

Randall scolded himself for showing too much teeth with that last smile- that always put people off, _always_. But a toothless grin made him look smug, unapproachable. He would have to practice smiling that evening and get it right. They'd never like him otherwise.

"So, er, how are you guys finding it so far? Pretty good, huh?" Another cringing grin.

"Yeah," mumbled one, a tall, red monster. "It's good."

More silence. Randall peered down the table as the other Mons suddenly became very interested in the plates before them.

He picked up his fork, feeling a tad dejected, and stared at 'today's special'. 'Today's special' stared back. Randall strangely didn't feel like eating anymore. He pushed his tray forward, leaning his upper two elbows on the table, unsure of whether to say anything. Someone else beat him to it- a purple monster, with dozens of eyes scattered about where his neck would be.

"Hey, wasn't it funny when Flint mispronounced 'undulate' from the manual this morning?" he began in a deep, gruff voice. "The way she said it was real funny!" The others chuckled, and their previous conversations continued. They seemed to talk about everything, especially the irrelevant things, that had happened so far, but soon the topic had moved onto Fangs McDonald.

"What do you think he's here for?" one Scarer began.

"He's here for a reason, that's for sure. I bet you he's going to give us some tips, maybe even one of those inspirational talks I've heard about!"

One Mon, a green, slimy monster with spikes leading down his back, groaned. "Not another talk- I've had enough of those for one day!" A few others murmured in agreement.

"Well, guess we're just going to have to wait and see. But it can only be a good thing- he is the Record Holder, after all."

As soon as lunch was over, they left the cafeteria and made their way back to the Scare Simulator room, Randall tagging along behind. Although he wouldn't admit it, he was feeling anxious at the thought of meeting Fangs McDonald; he had been a key figure in Randall's childhood, someone to look up to and admire, but meeting your idols is not always a good idea, as they usually fall flat in comparison to the high pedestal they occupy in one's mind.

Silence descended over the Scarers as they approached the door of the Simulator. They all felt somewhat tense and excited, and when they entered the room, any doubts they'd had were alleviated immediately, because there was Mr. McDonald himself, quietly talking to Ms. Flint.

"Ah, the Scarers!" said Ms. Flint, standing up. "Everyone, meet Fangs McDonald."

He was rather short for a Scarer. The brownish colour of his skin contrasted with the blue stripe of fur that swept down his back, and his two arms and legs were adorned with the sharpest, most fearsome of claws. A slightly wrinkled face practically seeped of years of experience, and a thick, 

grey moustache hiding a small mouth looked quite humorous in comparison to his otherwise manly, ripped figure- especially as, protruding out of this mouth were two long, glistening fangs, his namesake.

Everyone was standing in shock near the doorway, and Ms. Flint had to usher them into the room and back to their chairs. After a few minutes and a lot of shuffling about, the 'class' was ready, and Fangs began to speak.

"Scaring is important," he started, his fangs barely moving in comparison to his moustache, which seemed to be doing the tango on his face. "Very important. This world wouldn't work without good Scarers. Hopefully all of the people present in this room- excluding the lovely Ms. Flint, of course- will be able to contribute." He began to pace back and forth, arms behind his back, looking very stately and important. "Not just anyone can be a Scarer. You've got to have something special, something different. You've got to be tough, strong, confident, and sharp-minded." He paused, turning to face the students. "And I am going to choose the single Scarer in this room with the most potential to be my personal project over the next month or two."

There were a lot of raised eyebrows at this last sentence, and each Scarer immediately thought of themselves getting the job with Fangs McDonald, being trained by him, reaching Top Scarer- and more! Randall could see himself, respected by others, unbeaten, full of confidence. The Top Scarer trophy in his hands, its gold covered cup cold and refreshing to the touch. His face splashed on the front page of the Monstropolis Times, with 'Scarer of the Century!' written in bold alongside it.

His parents, smiling, brimming with joy for their son. Proud.

"You may not have had any formal training as of yet, but I want to see what you've got. Each of you will come up here and give it your best shot, because if you can scare, you can scare. It's in your blood. Training is just a formality, but if I train you, I will sculpt you into the ultimate Scarer, perfect in form, style and expertise. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity."

_He doesn't half love himself,_ Randall couldn't help but think. But the lizard monster figured that if he were in Fangs' position, he'd probably be cocky too.

"So," Fangs smiled, "who's going to go first?"

What followed was a blur- in Randall's eyes, at least. A painful blur, but a blur.

Scarer after Scarer approached the Simulator, determination in their eyes, already thinking up new techniques and approaches, and promptly forgetting everything they had been taught that morning. Some Scarers made no obvious mistakes, but failed to actually make the simulation child scream, whilst others did absolutely everything wrong from start to finish- touching the Human objects, leaving the door open, tripping up on the toys scattered around on the floor, and, in one case, falling onto the child and crushing it until it was a jumble of crumpled metal. (Fortunately, they always had a spare for such situations).

At first, Fangs McDonald looked rather hopeful, but as the session neared its end, his face was full of dismay._ Is that what the young 'uns are made of, nowadays_?

Over two thirds of the potential Scarers had given the Simulator a shot, and they had now stopped volunteering themselves, leaving Fangs to pick out the ones that hadn't had a turn yet.

"You, scaley," he said, wagging a finger in Randall's direction, "you try."

Randall reluctantly stood up from his seat in the corner of the room, hoping that he wouldn't be chosen- he hated the thought of looking like a complete idiot in front of his idol. Then again, he couldn't do any worse than this lot, could he?

Clenching his teeth, the lizard monster approached the door, looking over at Ms. Flint and nodding for her to start the timer. The lights dimmed, the simulation began, and a second later, he had disappeared out of sight. There were a few surprised gasps from the others, and Fangs looked up, quite taken aback.

There was silence. None of the objects on the bedroom floor had been moved. It was even impossible to hear his footsteps.

Randall appeared in an instant, teeth bared, leering over the prosthetic child. His arms slowly raised as his growl reached a deep climax- he wasn't comfortable with the idea of roaring quite yet.

And, to his satisfaction, the child leapt up with an ear-piercing scream.

Randall disappeared once again, sneaking out of the room as efficiently as he had crawled in, reappearing only once he had shut the door softly behind him. A smug, almost snide grin, full of pride and contentment was smattered across his face.

He looked over to Fangs McDonald, who was looking impressed.

"...Very good. Yes, very good...What did you say your name was, again?"

Randall grinned, his white teeth displayed in all their glory.

"Randall Boggs." A name that would ring in the ears of the others for a long, long time. A name that Randall hoped would be associated with professionalism, with excellent Scaring, with respect and admiration.

Yet, even from that moment, the slightest, smallest, most infantile, tiny smidge of a doubt lingered in the back of his mind.

He ignored it.

"Impressive," Fangs repeated, noting the name. "Take a seat."

Randall sat back down, brushing to one side the glares and glances from the other Scarers in the room.

He was born to do this.

* * *

On the whole, the Scarers had achieved some pretty poor results. Out of the group of thirteen, only four had managed to make the child scream, and even these four successful scares were, on the whole, poor.

"Well done for your efforts today, everyone," Fangs said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Go and study your manuals like Ms. Flint has instructed you to, and good luck with your scaring careers. I'm sure they'll be..._prosperous_."

The group got up to leave, the novelty of Fangs McDonald having worn off, and the torture of the embarrassment that afternoon still painfully fresh in their minds. Scaring was a lot more difficult than those advertisements made it out to be.

Randall leaned down to pick up his bag, shoving a few books into it. When he straightened up, Fangs was stood before him, his face as blank as ever.

"Randall, wasn't it?"

Randall nodded mutely as a small explosion of euphoria erupted in his stomach. What was about to happen was obvious, but he daren't even think about it until it had been confirmed by Fangs himself.

"That was an impressive display there, son. Very impressive. You seem to have a real knack for this."

Smiling because he simply couldn't not smile, Randall replied modestly, "Thanks, but I'm sure that was a fluke..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"No, no fluke there. I know a good Scarer when I see one, and you're a good Scarer. With the potential to be even better, of course..."

Here it was. The big moment.

"Anyway," Fangs continued, "I'll be sure to mention your name to Mr. Waternoose sometime. He likes to keep a track of the up and coming talents."

Randall nodded, and then waited for a few moments. This was taking far too long.

"So, uh..." Randall uttered, "...Was that everything?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Oh. Okay, then. Well, uh, thank you for coming in and giving us those tips, sir, and it was a real honour to meet you in person."

"I didn't give you any tips though, did I?"

"Well, no, but the other things you said were really...useful. Yeah. Thanks."

Randall headed for the door, feeling almost mortified by the way his tongue had suddenly tied itself into a nice, tight double knot. And assuming that he was going to Fangs' new trainee! How arrogant was that?

Just as the fat tips of his fingers touched the handle of the door, Fangs spoke once more.

"Scarefloor C, eight thirty tomorrow. Got that?"

Still facing the door, Randall smiled, letting out a little sigh of relief as he closed his eyes. He turned his head, grinning.

"Got it."

Leaning on Celia's desk, Randall couldn't help but relay to her exactly what had just happened. His chest puffed out in pride.

"You're going to be trained by Fangs McDonald himself? That's amazing, Randall! Well done!"

"Thanks. It was nothing really," he said, waving off the small shower of compliments he was getting. "Though he did say that I had a 'knack', and y'know what? I think he's right. I was _made_ for this job. Top Scarer spot, here I come!"

Randall waved goodbye to Celia, but just as he turned to leave, he was confronted by half a dozen of the Scarers he had spent the day with.

"Oh look, it's Mr. Smug Guy!" one commented maliciously. Randall merely blinked at the less-than-thought-out insult.

"Yeah, ooh, Mr. McDonald, can I lick your shoes clean? Can I do all your paperwork for you? Can I wipe your ass for you, Mr. McDonald?" another piped up. The others sniggered, finding this all very amusing.

"Just because I know how to scare without injuring myself does not mean I'm a suck-up," Randall retaliated, clenching his fists.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," another said in a high pitched voice, "we all know you want to _do_ him!"

Randall rolled his eyes. This was getting mind-blowingly immature. He chose to take the high road and began to walk away, dignity still intact- but he didn't get far. With a thunk, a Guide to Scaring thwacked Randall around the head. It smarted, and it was enough to get Randall riled up.

He stormed back up to the group, singling out the shortest one of the lot to pick on- a three-eyed, tentacled little guy who had made the majority of the comments.

"What do you think you're _doing?_" he said, prodding a finger into the Mon's chest. When his question was only met with protests from the others, he continued, spitting out every syllable. "I said, _what do you think you're doing?_"

"I didn't do anything! It was the others, I swear!"

Randall narrowed his eyes, giving the little monster the most evil look he could muster, before turning to leave once again.

"...Anyway, I wouldn't want my manual to come into contact with a scaley freak like _you_."

It was mumbled only quietly, as a side-note to his friends, but Randall heard it.

Almost shaking with rage, he disappeared, only to reappear once he had the monster pinned up against the wall by the neck. The others protested, yet stayed well away from the situation.

"You gonna say that to my face? HUH?! _Are ya_?! I've got a good mind to-"

"Randall BOGGS!"

Randall winced.

"Release that Mon. Now."

The lizard monster carefully did what he was told, letting the monster scuttle away in terror. Randall stayed facing the wall.

"You're lucky I'm not someone important," Fangs said, "otherwise you'd be in big trouble."

Randall looked up at him, surprised at the calm approach he was having, to be met by a very disappointed look. Only then did he realize what he'd just done. Letting his temper get the better of him, he had physically harmed someone on the first day of his dream job. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

"I'll let this one go, Randall, but if anything like this ever happens again, I'm going to report it. You understand that, right?"

"Yeah. Course. Surprised you're not reporting it this time round."

"I was young once too, you know." Fangs smiled under that bushy moustache. "Your temper was a mere breeze in comparison to the massive tornados I'd get into. Just try and keep it under control."

He patted Randall on the back, and Randall was almost shocked at the contact. Fangs McDonald had seemed offy and aloof right from the outset, but it looked as though he had taken a shine to Randall, thankfully.

"Go home and get some rest. You've got a big day tomorrow."

* * *

Randall was walking home.

It had been a strange day. A very strange day, at that. Nothing like he had expected, yet in some ways, exactly what he had expected.

He was disappointed in the way he was unable to make friends, but it was as though all of those with great success were loners, individuals, shining stars. That's what made them stand out from the rest.

And training with Fangs McDonald himself...That was it. The absolute pinnacle.

Randall couldn't wait for tomorrow.


End file.
